


Releasing Tension

by Lupo (LupoLight)



Series: 2020 DBH Rarepairs Week [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Atlas), (Samson), Atlennas, Atlennas is the ship name, Captain Allen has a different name, DBH Rarepairs Week, Day 5, Established Relationship, Fluff, Heartfelt Moment, I dunno I think a massage is pretty heartfelt, M/M, Massages, Not Beta Read, This is just them being soft and in love guys, Upgraded Connor | RK900 Has a Different Name, dbhrarepairsweek, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupoLight/pseuds/Lupo
Summary: #DBHRarepairsWeekCaptain Samson Allen is a man who's always waiting for the other shoe to drop, to fight- to run- to move. Constantly prepared and constantly alert. To put it simply, he's tense. So when he gets time off, he just wants to melt into his boyfriend on the couch and do absolutely nothing. Atlas has other plans though.((Several days late and short- but I hope the friendo whom I write this for loves it all the same! Their RK900 deserves more love <3))
Relationships: Captain Allen/Upgraded Connor | RK900
Series: 2020 DBH Rarepairs Week [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683121
Kudos: 7





	Releasing Tension

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nevermore/Mortimore](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Nevermore%2FMortimore).



> AAAAAAAA I'm so sorry this is so short and so late- I got caught up with moving, then flooded my head with other ideas- needless to say I just needed to get this one to a nice ending and out. I did have day 6 planned to be more Gav60, but since I'm already so far behind I'ma just- try again next time. I hope everyone that reads this enjoys the softness though!
> 
> This is set after Do As I Say, same universe and all.

There were very few things that went past Samson Allen. As the SWAT captain, that was kind of important, he couldn’t let things get past him. He was always on alert, always stiff and always at attention. The tense bunch of his muscles was a constant presence he had long since been used to. He held his head high at all times, commanded the room with his presence alone. Samson is a leader before he is a person, in some instances, and it shows.

Going to bed, getting up, showering- it shows in how tense he is, how he feels like a piece of wood or stone moving rather than a mass of bendable muscle. He knows it can’t be healthy, and thought once or twice of looking for the appropriate stretches, but he didn’t have time for that. When he got the rare day off, he was content to spend it sleeping or doting on the android who recently filled in every part of his life that wasn’t work.

  
  


Which he was doing now, looking up to the RK900 android, his Atlas, that had his hand tangled in his hair. A firm presence, shifting through it softly and messing it up. Atlas was the last person, or rather, android, on Earth Samson though he would fall for. Gentle hands that performed their job perfectly, so much so it at first had him seeing green, now held him with more care than he knew what to do with. It was a warm summer day, they were relaxing on the couch watching some documentary on big cats; Samson laying with his head in the other’s lap and Atlas sitting up. It was Allen’s day off, and Atlas always made sure to get out earlier on his days off so they could spend time together.

  
  


If he said he was actually watching the documentary, he would be lying. He was looking up to Atlas more than anything else. Atlas was unique, having embraced his deviancy so fully at this point that he stood out among the crowd. Still a commanding presence, RK900s just were that, Atlas had went above and beyond to make himself someone you saw. Red streaks through his hair, two lip piercing on his bottom lip, piercings in his ear. At home he relaxed, his work button up completely undone and pants switched out for- nothing but boxers actually. He was handsome as ever like this, and Samson reached his hand up, brushing fingers along his jaw.

“Affectionate.”

“For you.” There wasn’t much that needed said between them right now, Atlas’s grey-blue eyes focusing down to him. The hand stilled, then moved down his neck.

“You know, you’ve been building up a lot of tension lately.” It was a bad year. A couple cases they just couldn’t get the right results, a couple of times hospitalized. Hell, even Atlas got shot once this year. So little time off, so much stress. A revolution would do that, but it was still overwhelming at times. At first he wished that things would go back to how they were, now- he just wished people would accept that this was how it was.

“Just a bit. Comes with the job.” Hands smoothed down his shoulders, gentle.

“Take this off for me Sam.” Despite the gentle tone, Samson long since gave up control to Atlas. If the other said jump, Samson would do so. Maybe with a little sass, if he felt like it. Right now, he didn’t feel like doing much more than lazing around, so he leaned up, pulling the shirt off his back. Atlas took it before he could just toss it, folding the fabric and setting it aside. “Alright, let me get up.”

Now that got a whine, pouting up at Atlas as he still listened. Sitting up sucked, his whole back felt like a ramrod. He watched the other walk away, and then he came back, shirt moving with each step. Never having to actually look around for ages had to be nice- Samson wasn’t proud to admit he left all his brain cells at work more often than not. He noticed the bottle of oil and felt heat curl in his chest, wondering the other’s plans. Atlas smiled, and he would bet the other was amused at his zoned attention to the bottle.

“Lay on your stomach, head in folded arms.” Moving to listen, he heard the bottle open, felt the  _ thump _ of knees hitting the floor gracefully.

However, whatever he expected- wasn’t this. Oil was poured on his back, the lavender scent of it not being the one they played with. Then hands, the plastic leaving a soft buzz to the oil, like static and heat, started to knead the muscles. “I downloaded a quick how-to for this, but I’ve never done this before.”

“Words I’ve heard bef-fah…” He groaned, feeling hands glide up his back. Smoothing the oil around, letting it melt into his skin. Then they kneaded his sides, starting from the small of his back and working up. For half a moment he forgot how to breathe, so tired and relaxed, that Atlas’s smooth voice startled him.

“Relax love, let me get that tension out of you.” He resisted the joke on the tip of his tongue, just nodding and breathing. Some of the things had little bursts of pain then heat, muscles forced to relax under skilled hands. By the time Atlas was done, his hands just feeling now, Samson could barely figure out where he ended and the couch began. A deep chuckle as he was lifted, feeling his boyfriend sit down with his back against the arm rest, he was tugged into his lap.

“How do you feel now?”

“Like pudding, if that makes sense. Much better, thank you hun.” He moved finally, kissing the abs that peaked through the open shirt. “Think I could make it up to you tonight?”

“Maybe. If you’re good. Right now, just relax. You need to take a break, and so do I.”

That sounded like a good idea to him, turning so he was held by Atlas but still could see the tv. He had no idea what was going on in the show now, but he did know what he felt. One hand with the chassis exposed, on his back, the other hand over his own. He tangled their fingers together, basking in the warmth and the shared contact. Dinner was eventually decided to be order in, and they both simply ate, talking about things they found stupid in the show. Allen dragged himself to the bathroom to clean up for the night, and when he came back out the TV had been turned down.

He could see how Atlas shifted, now sitting on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees and leaning forward. The shirt that had been clinging to him now laid on the table, and Samson could see how relaxed he was. “Come, sit.” The command startled him a little bit, but he went to do as told. Only to be stopped before he reached his side of the couch. “Down. On your knees, you know where.”

There was a shiver at the tone, lowly spoken but deep and authoritative, as Sam sunk to his knees in front of Atlas. A hand on his head, running through and messing up hastily slicked back hair as it dried, made loose strands fall out and he relaxed once more. His head rested on the android’s thigh, pressing a kiss there and he heard a hum above him. “Green,” he responded, knowing the other was waiting for confirmation he wanted this. The grip never turned cruel though, still gently running through his hair.

“Pull my boxers off of me love. You may do so however you wish.” Sam nodded, moving to hook his fingers in the fabric. He did move to pull off the front with his teeth, looking up for approval at this. “So handsome like this, but you know that, don’t you?” He smiled, and soon the fabric was removed, set aside with his shirt. Atlas was large, not too big to be unrealistic but bigger than any of his previous partners. Not being given another order, he sat back, simply looking to the half-hard member and waiting.

“Patient- good boy. Here’s how this is going to work love- you get me off like this, and then I’m going to carry you to bed and make sure you fall asleep very relaxed.” His voice was still so soft, and even though he barely said anything suggestive there, Samson found himself squirming at the idea.   
  
“Sounds good to me.” There was a soft tug, as the response was very flippant, but no correction. “Sir,” was quickly added anyways, and he saw the soft twitch that one word gained. They both had a thing for being called ‘ _ sir _ ’.

“Begin then.” Before he moved, he looked up, seeing the LED the other still wore become bright. His hand slid down, cupping his face for a moment and bringing him forward. Not needing any further prompting, Samson placed one hand towards the base of Atlas’s member, and the other was on the inside of his thigh. The quick gasp he got for aiming for Atlas’s weak spot was so worth it, and he wrapped his mouth around the tip.

Now the one thing Samson wasn’t proud of was his slightly sensitive gag reflex. He never was the type to think he’d enjoy being like this for anyone, so he never practiced, or tried to get rid of the sensitivity. He had to get creative now, and it wasn’t that hard. Pressing his tongue down, he hollowed his cheeks, humming softly as he went down onto all he could. His hand slowly stroked what he couldn’t reach, and when his head pulled back, he hummed. 

Starting slow, he simply enjoyed himself, the only sign of how much it was getting to Atlas being the hand in his hair. It went from slow, rhythmic petting to gripping softly, pulling and tugging when Sam didn’t move fast enough. Never pushing however, letting him control the speed, and Sam was grateful for that. He did eventually speed up, humming harder and closing his eyes as he focused on his task. Atlas murmured above him, soft moans and quiet praise. With the hand on his thigh, he pressed and massaged, and could feel the moment muscles started to tense.

There was a soft ‘ _ Sam _ ’ before Atlas came undone, hips bucking just slightly and the fingers in his hair tightening their grip. Swallowing what he could, he pulled off of Atlas to lick the rest, the hand quickly pushing him back. “So good for me love, so handsome and sweet. You did so well.” Sam smiled up to his boyfriend, starting to stand only for the other to pull him close. Hands went under him to pick him up, and he quickly wrapped his legs around the other’s waist.

“You spoil me Atlas.”

“Only because you deserve it Sam. Now come on, it’s time you were rewarded for being so good.” He couldn’t argue with that, leaning in to kiss Atlas before the other carried him to the bedroom. The door shut behind them with a quiet  _ thunk _ .

When Allen went into work the next morning, more than one person commented on how relaxed he looked.


End file.
